


Nietzsche is King

by deanniker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, How Do I Tag, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, idk how sexy, lots of showertimes, some sexytimes at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:56:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2427836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanniker/pseuds/deanniker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How with the help of a philosopher, a record-player, and a cordoned off master bedroom, Dean falls in love with his best friend.</p><p>(this is not as cracky as it sounds)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nietzsche is King

**Author's Note:**

> "There is always some madness in love, but there is also always some reason in madness." - Nietzsche

When Cassie breaks up with him, it ends with a barrage of hurled books and insults. Dean is left standing outside their townhouse, and he keeps thinking,  _I'm sorry, Sam. I'm sorry I let Dad yell at you to get out and don't come back._ The blowout when Sam left for Standford was eerily similar to what's happening now, except that Dean ran after him and Cassie's door remains firmly shut. He stands outside in the cold, the bitter wind making him shiver, waiting for something to happen. He sees one of the curtains twitch, but the lights shut off, and eventually Dean gets into his car and drives his sorry ass to Cas's. 

It's not subliminal, no matter what Cassie says. Dean likes Cas because he's cool, not because of some fucked up desire to get closer to her by being friends with a guy who sort of shares her name. 

Well, maybe not cool, Dean amends when Cas opens his door wearing a pair of pajamas that have fluffy cartoon sheep jumping around on them. But Cas takes one look at him and opens the door wider. He takes him to the guest bedroom and talks about nothing while getting Dean fresh towels. He starts putting sheets on the bed and hands Dean a pillowcase. Dean puts it on the pillow while shame sits heavy in his throat. He can't even say thank you, but with Cas he doesn't need to. He knows when not to push, and he knows what he can expect Dean to give. And  _that's_ why Dean likes him. 

The next day, Cas makes breakfast, and once they've eaten and Dean is savoring the warmth and thick smell of the coffee, Cas asks, "Is it permanent."

Dean takes a hasty sip of his coffee so he doesn't have to answer with words and nods. Cas stares at him intently, for long enough that the shame from the night before comes rushing back until Cas leans back in his chair and lets him breathe. "I'm sorry to hear that," Cas states. Dean looks up, startled. Cas and Cassie never really got along. They were too different. If he was anyone else, Dean would think Cas was lying, skirting around the truth to make him feel better, but he knows better than that. Cas is blunt to the point of hurtfulness. Dean sometimes thinks that Cas has some sort of disorder, a mild form of Turrets or something, because he's never heard a white truth come out of his mouth. 

"Thanks," Dean says awkwardly. He fiddles with his coffee, stirring it with a spoon even though the milk has long since evened out. "Is it all right if I stay here a little while? Just until I find my own place or..." He hadn't even thought that far ahead until this moment. Maybe he should move on, travel the rest of the country like he'd been planning to after Dad shoved off. The only reason he was here was because he'd met Cassie and stuck around to be near her dark eyes and her shark smile. She'd been a fire, and Dean had walked right in until he had no hope of getting out without getting burned. 

"Of course," Cas says. "Do you want any help moving out your things?"

Dean didn't have a lot in the way of possessions when he decided to stay, and he's only in town for a little over six months. He left without taking anything, hardly stopping to grab his phone and wallet with shaking hands as Cassie shouted at him. He could probably grab his clothes and other crap without help, but he knows Cas didn't use the word  _want_ instead of  _need_ by accident. He doesn't need help, but he doesn't want to go back to face her alone. He nods. 

"When would you like to go?" Cas asks. 

Dean wants to wait as long as possible, but he only has the clothes on his back. He could borrow something of Cas's - he's got to have a pair of sweats or clothes that would fit him somewhere - but he draws the line at wearing another man's underwear. "I guess today sometime," he answers. 

"I'm free all day," Cas says. "Why don't we go right now?" When Dean reaches for his keys, Cas grabs him by the wrist and stops him. "You should probably let her know you're coming."

Damn him, he's right. Dean flips open his phone and scrolls down to Cassie's number, but for some reason he has a hard time pressing the call button. After what seems like a lifetime, where Dean just reads the individual numbers while thinking about what he's going to say, what he's going to sound like what  _she's_ going to sound like, Cas says, "I can do it, if you like."

Dean flushes, embarrassed by how ridiculous he's being, and thumbs the button. He holds the phone to his ear. Cassie answers on the second ring, so at least he's not stewing in agony for very long. "Dean," she snaps. "I told you, no crawling back on your knees this time."

"That's not -" Dean snaps right back, but Cas is sitting right across from him, wearing that expression that means he thinks Dean is better than this, so he bites his tongue and breathes in deeply until the urge to fight is gone. Calmly, or as calmly as he can manage, he says, "I know it's over. I just thought I'd ask if I could come over and collect my things today."

"Sure, yeah, I guess," Cassie say. "I'd like my key back."

She's baiting him. Dean knows that tone well. It's part of what drew him to her, and before he would have baited her right back. They would have met in the middle in a thorny, tangled, wonderful mess. Instead, he says, "I'll be there in about half an hour."

"Fine," Cassie says, and hangs up.

Cas stands up. "I'll see if I have any boxes."

"I don't have that much," Dean says. 

"You never know," says Cas.

 

*

 

Dean rings the doorbell, even though his key is on the ring in his hands. When Cassie opens the door and sees Cas with him, she snorts and folds her arms. "You brought him?" She asks disbelievingly.

Dean shrugs and brushes past her. She has actually done a few things, pulled some of his books off the shelf and puts them on the table. Cas acts like Cassie isn't breathing down both of their necks and starts, putting the books into one of his boxes. Dean goes into their - her - bedroom and grabs his duffel from the closet and starts going through the drawers. Cassie follows him and leaves Cas alone downstairs, which Dean figures is better than her and Cas alone together. She doesn't say anything, just taps her nails against her folded arms like she's impatient. Dean avoids eye contact and shoves all his shit in as quick as he can. Once he's done, he goes back downstairs and nearly has a heart attack when he sees Cas standing next to the record player. 

He'd forgotten about it. The record player is the only high ticket item they'd bought together. And technically, Cassie had bought it. "Who gets this?" Cas asks. 

"I do," Cassie says firmly, and Dean swallows hard. Cas frowns, which for someone as blank as him is strange. But Cas has listened to Dean ramble on and on about that record player and how the music sounds so much better coming off it during their lunch break. Or more accurately, during Dean's lunch break when he hangs around the front desk and bothers Cas while he's working. 

"I went through the records and counted. Dean has more," Cas says. 

"How do you even know which one's are mine and which one's are Dean's?" Cassie snaps. "You know what, never mind, it doesn't matter anyway. The record player stays with me."

"Dean," Cas begins.

"You don't even have an apartment," Cassie accuses, acknowledging Dean's presence for the first time since they came down the stairs. "You're just going to lug it around in your car?" 

"Dean is staying with me for now," Cas says calmly.

Cassie crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. "Of course he is," she says scathingly. "I bought it."

"Fine," Dean says, because it's true and as much as he wants the damn record player, he also wants to get out of here as fast as possible. "But remember that you're the one who said we're finished. I don't want this, so if you're doing this to punish me it's kinda redundant." Cas looks at him approvingly.

Cassie looks like she's about to whip something else at him, but she snaps her mouth shut and shakes her head. "I really do like they player, Dean," she says softly.

"Whatever," Dean says, fiddling his key off his ring so he doesn't have to look at anyone. He holds it out to Cassie with a shrug. "Here."

She takes it and doesn't say anything else. Dean grabs his duffel and one of the boxes that Cas filled and walks out of the apartment. It isn't until they've put everything into the back that Dean realizes he's waiting for Cassie to come out and stop him, call him back, tell him they can work it out. He even lingers in the driveway for a few extra seconds, convinced that this is all a mistake, but the door stays shut. Dean starts the car before Cas needs to prompt him. 

"I'm sorry about that," Cas says quietly from the passenger seat, after they've pulled out sight of the neighborhood. "I didn't know it would start an arguement."

For a second Dean has no idea what he's talking about, and when he realizes he laughs. "That wasn't really an argument for us, man. Me and Cassie were like that a lot." At Cas's questioning look he adds, "you know, fight and make up."

"That sounds exhausting," Cas says flatly. "And not altogether pleasant."

"Yeah, well, I love her," Dean says defensively. 

"I never said you didn't."

For a few minutes they drive in silence, until Dean feels kinds of bad for snapping at him. Cas helped him move out, Cas is letting him stay in his house, he deserves better than Dean biting his head off. And Dean actually does want to talk, because he doesn't quite know what went wrong. He could call Sam, but Sam probably doesn't want to hear about his bullshit domestic problems, and he doesn't know Cassie at all. He doesn't even know that she exists. 

"No matter how bad it got," Dean says slowly," I always wanted to fix things with her. Right? I mean, God, she's amazing, she's beautiful. Isn't that what love is? Isn't that what - fuck - relationships are supposed to be about?"

"You know, Nietzsche once said that it is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asks. "What's a neechee and why do I care?"

"He was a famous German philosopher," Cas says. 

"Well, he sounds like a dick that should stop poking his nose into other people's problems," Dean snaps. 

"He  _also_ said," Cas overrides calmly, digging through the box of Dean's tapes. "Without music, life would be a mistake."

With that, he pushes a tape in and the noises of Queen fill the car. Queen isn't Dean's favorite, he thinks they're overhyped, but Cas likes them. He argues that they're overhyped for a reason. Dean taps his fingers on the steering wheel and shrugs. "Maybe he's not a dick. Maybe he's only an asshole." Cas smiles at him and bobs his head along in time with Freddie Mercury.

 

*

 

Even though they're both living in the same house, they take different cars to work. If Sam was here, he'd give Dean shit about it, but they have different hours a lot of the time. Cas is the only person at the autoshop who actually goes in from nine to five every day. The mechanics, Dean included, have flexible hours and only go in when they're needed. For awhile, before he'd learned the ropes, Dean assumed Cas kept regular hours because he had a stick up his ass. It didn't help that Cas was distant to everyone when he was on the job. Dean eventually learned that Cas works the way he does because he has a shit ton to do. He schedules appointments and hours and orders supplies and even puts ads in the newspaper. He's the manager and the secretary all at the same time, and Dean's brain hurts thinking about the way Cas works. He's also kind of shocked that Cas lets Dean bother him during the day. 

Dean definitely prefers his job. He fixes cars, that's it, and he gets paid to do it. He loves getting a paycheck, but it's hard at the same time. After all those years of roaming from town to town while Dad 'tried to find a job' and defending him to Sam, it's tough to learn that Dad is a selfish son of a bitch. It didn't take Dean that much effort to find a job, and Dad had been the one to teach him about cars in the first place. 

So he thinks that he will stay in this town. It's not what he was used to growing up, but despite the fact that he and Cassie are so broken up it's sure to be awkward if they ever run into each other, he looks for an apartment instead of hopping into his car. 

Cas is a huge help. He sits Dean down and together they look at his salary and Cas explains why he should open a 401k and how much should go into it. He also explains how to budget for rent and food and gas. Eventually they narrow down how much Dean could spend on a place to live and Dean starts a real estate hunt. 

Dean is stupidly grateful for his help, because he would never be able to figure this out on his own. Dean isn't a numbers person. Cas majored in economics at OSU, but despite that he never makes Dean feel like shit for his GED. 

After two weeks of searching, however, Dean hasn't found anything. There are a few places in bad parts of town, and it's not that Dean wouldn't be comfortable there, but if he's going to be sticking around for awhile he feels like he should go all the way and get someplace nicer. Cas tells him not to worry and that he's free to stay as long as he needs. 

It's kind of weird. Cas at work is freakily focused, and though they are friends and have hung out before, they were always doing something. It's a little strange to see how Cas is when left to his own devices. Dean will wake up and find Cas staring out the window watching the birds in his birdbath. Cas likes to draw, and of course Dean knew that already, but it's different seeing Cas do it on his couch in his free time, sketching feathers and fire in abstract patterns. They still do the things they did as friends, which means a lot of Dean watching sports and yelling things at the TV while Cas sits back and lets him do it. 

"Do you even like me?" Dean asks one day, after he's narrowly avoided throwing one of Cas's couch cushions at the screen.

"Of course I do," Cas says. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I dunno, you're kind of quiet, and I'm not." Cas is looking at him, confusion obvious in his eyes, and Dean adds, "I guess I thought I might annoy you."

"I don't mind that you're loud," Cas says. "I think it keeps me balanced. I like having you around."

Dean blushes. 

Wait. 

What?

Why has some offhand comment got him flustered enough to be  _blushing_? Realizing that he's blushing just makes Dean more flustered, and makes him blush harder, and eventually he has to excuse himself to the bathroom. Even once he's splashed water on his face, there are still two spots of color high in his cheeks. They'd drunk wine at dinner, because Cas insisted it tasted better with alfredo than beer. Maybe Dean just isn't used to it.

A week later, Dean comes back from a late night, working on a Volkswagon's transmission that was a lot tricker than he was prepared for, and there's a record player standing in Cas's living room. As he's standing over it, mouth gaping - it's nicer than the one Cassie bought, all dark wood and clean lines - Cas says from behind him. "In case you were worried, I solemnly swear that it's yours. I even had my brother draw up ownership papers." Cas's brother, Michael, is one of those sleazy lawyers who don't give a fuck about right and wrong and are only in it to make money. Cas hands him a paper, and it looks legit, covered in half-transparent seals and signatures in red ink. Dean's brain is breaking, because he can't imagine how much shit Michael gave Cas over a  _pre-nup_ for a  _record player_. "I know how much you loved the last one," Cas says, like it's simple. 

"You shouldn't have, Cas, this is too much," Dean says, shocked. 

"I wanted to," Cas replies, smiling softly. Dean is hit with the urge to hold him and never let go. 

It's weird. It's the kind of thing he felt for Cassie, this urge. He clears his throat and gives Cas a hug, quickly, slapping him on the back a few times before letting go. The feeling has let up, and Dean thinks he's overthinking things. Cas is his friend. It's only natural to want to hug a guy who bought a great record player. 

Cas pulls out an LP of  _Dark Side of the Moon_ , and Dean's heart squeezes painfully in his chest. 

Later that night, Dean lies awake thinking about it. Absurdly, he starts thinking about that quote Cas said in the car. About needing friendship instead of attraction in a marriage. Without even trying, he gets an image of the two of them growing older together, like a montage from a cheesy movie, and it makes him extremely uncomfortable. He shouldn't be thinking about smiling at Cas over cups of coffee when they're old and grey. Jesus. 

Would it really be so bad, though?Dean likes living with Cas. And he knows dudes can shack up with other dudes. 

Those dudes are usually banging each other, his brain supplies. He doesn't even know if Cas works that way. He's never seen him interested in a girl before, but Dean's never seen him interested in a guy either. 

It doesn't matter anyway: Dean definitely doesn't work that way. He punches his pillow and tries to get to sleep. 

Cas grunts at him in the morning, glare in place to fend off any interaction before breakfast. It's nothing like that disturbing image Dean had in his head last night, but he doesn't really mind. He likes it, even, because it seems more real. 

Later, in the shower, Dean looks down at his dick and thinks, do I really not work that way? Maybe he should try. Just in case. 

It takes only a full pulls of his dick to get it up and running, and once it's jutting up proudly Dean closes his eyes and tries to think about Cas. He's got no clue where to start, though. This isn't in his comfort zone, and he spends so long worrying that his erection fades. He can't believe he's trying to jerk off to Cas in Cas's own house. He's jerked off once or twice, but he hadn't thought about anything. It was just routine maintenance. This is sick. Cas uses this shower, for god's sake. He uses his master bedroom as a studio and doesn't let anyone, not even Dean, in there.  _Cas_ has probably jerked off in this shower. 

That thought, instead of chastising his dick, just makes it more excited. Dean hesitates for a second, but then decides to run with it, tries to picture Cas in this position. Would he run his hand across his chest, draw lines through the water as is flows over his skin? Cas is usually so calm and put together, like a rock, but with a hand on his cock would he lose that composure? Would his mouth hang open, letting the water in? Would his breath speed up? Would his eyes glaze over with pleasure? Dean bets he would get flushed all over, a pale complexion like that. He'd brace his arm against the wall, just like Dean is doing now, and groan quietly in that deep voice of his, in such a low register that Dean wouldn't be able to hear it unless he was in the shower with him. 

Dean comes picturing Cas flushed and groaning, water beating down on him and plastering dark hair to his skin. It's not the best orgasm he's ever had, but it's not the worst either, and when Dean comes down from his high he concedes that he  _does_ work that way. 

 He finds and apartment in a decent neighborhood later that week. It could use some new cabinets and carpets, but Dean has always been good with his hands, and he likes the idea of making the apartment  _his._ For a brief moment he considers not leasing because of this... thing with Cas, but he recognizes that rushing into something after he just broke up, in addition to living with the guy is a bad move. He signs the paperwork, and Cas helps him move in, helps Dean haul the record-player up the stairs, and then he leaves. Dean ignores the pang from the sight of Cas's retreating back and gets to work setting everything up. He takes a week and every day after work rips up carpet and coats the wall in an extra layer of paint. Once he's done, he invites everyone at the garage to come for a beer. For a while they joke around and hang out in Dean's new living room until one by one they leave. Cas stays the longest, looking comfortable slumped on Dean's second-hand couch. It feels perfect, the two of them alone together, and when he leaves the apartment feels lonely. 

Dean calls Sam. They haven't spoken recently. The last time they talked was when Dean and Dad blew through California a year and a half ago, and Dean had mostly been trying to make sure things didn't get out of hand. 

The phone rings for a long time, long enough to make Dean start to worry that Sam's changed his number. 

"Dean?" 

"Hey, Sammy," Dean breathes in relief. 

"Why are you calling?" Sam asks shortly. 

"What, I can't call you?" Dean asks. "I just wanted to talk to you, Jesus."

"Sorry," Sam says, and he sounds like he means it. "But you don't ever call me."

"Yeah well, things have been busy."

"Sure," Sam says. "Are you in California?"

"I'm in Ohio," Dean says. "I got an apartment."

"Dad'll pack up in a few monts, I bet," Sam says scathingly. This is exactly why Dean doesn't call."

"I'm not with Dad," Dean says. "I haven't been for about a year."

"Really?" Sam asks. "What have you been doing? A whole year?"

"Yeah, I got a job. I'm a mechanic. I have a savings account, and like, a 401k."

"Wow," Sam says, voice awed and proud. "That's so amazing, Dean, that's really great."

It's not Sam's job to be proud of Dean, but Dean discovers that he likes it anyway. He wants to be someone Sam can look up to again. He hasn't for a while, not since Sam realized that he was going places and Dean... wasn't. "How about you, how's school?" Dean asks. 

"Really great. I'm thinking about going to law school after I'm done with undergrad."

Dean laughs. "Don't you have three more years to go?"

"Two and a half," Sam answers haughtily. "You can never plan too far ahead, you know? You  _do_ know, you've got a 401k started already."

"A friend talked me into that," Dean says. His heart beats faster at the mention of Cas. Part of him wants Sam to ask about this friend, and another part of him thinks he'd die of embarrassment.

Sam skips over it and asks Dean what part of Ohio he's in, and Dean lets out the breath that he'd been holding, unsure of whether it's in relief or disappointment. They end the conversation a few minutes after, with no mention of Cas or anyone on Sam's side. 

He'd hoped a talk with Sam would relax him, but Dean can't sleep, thoughts rattling around in his head. Of Dad and Sam and Cassie. Of Cas. Eventually he gets up, restless, and strips off to take a shower. 

After that initial jerk-off session in Cas's shower, he'd avoided doing it again. It  _was_ Cas's shower, and even if the thought of them in the same space is what got Dean going, it still seemed wrong. But Dean has his own shower now, so he can do what he damn well pleases. 

It doesn't take as long for Dean to get going this time. All he has to do is picture Cas with his hair plastered to his face and his dick is raring to go. He decides to try something different this time, though. Just because he likes the idea of Cas masturbating doesn't mean he'd like to have sex with the man. So he puts the Cas in his head on a bed. Like last time, there's a brief moment when he doesn't know what to do next, has no idea how sex between two guys works. He decides not to worry about the logistics, and just pictures Cas beneath him, being pushed up the bed with every thrust of Dean's hips. Dean's breath stutters. It's even better than last time. The Cas in his imagination writhes underneath him, huffing out little moans every time Dean drives into him. This Cas is driven wild by Dean, the flat planes of his chest heaving with every breath and his eyes frantic with how good it feels. 

"Cas," Dean gasps once, hand moving fast and furious over his dick, and like that a floodgate opens in his mouth. Cas is suddenly not only gasping, he's gasping Dean's name. 

"Dean," Cas groans. "Please, Dean. Please."

"Yes," Dean hisses. Cas throws his head back, arching and crying out. Dean has to slap to the wall to give him something to hang onto, because it's too much. He wants to see Cas like this, he wants to hear his name fall from Cas's lips when he's buried inside him. He doesn't give a fuck that Cas is a guy and that there are things that are probably impossible, Dean wants to see it all. He wants Cas to let him see everything. He wants to make Cas come. So he pictures it. He imagines Cas chanting his name, Dean Dean Dean, head tilted back and away, and then it snapping up and looking at Dean in awe as he tenses all over. 

"Dean," Cas whispers, voice blissed out and hoarse. 

"Fuck," Dean shouts, wanting so bad. "Fuck," and then he spills over his hand. 

"Fuck," he says again, quietly, as the water beats down on him and washes away his come. 

 

*

 

The next day, over lunch, he asks Cas how he is. 

"I'm fine," Cas replies, his eyes glued to his computer monitor. "My house seems quieter, now that you're not there," he adds, breaking concentration long enough to send Dean a wry smile. 

"I could come over," Dean says. "Shout and threaten to break your shit."

Cas smiles and turns his attention back to the screen. "Okay," he says. 

Dean gets to Cas's at five. There's a baseball game on at six, and they decide to order pizza. While they're waiting for it, they crack open a few beers and watch some Jeopardy. 

Dean pretends to watch, but in reality Cas circles around in his head, and eventually he blurts, "Do you like anyone?" He winces as soon as the words leave his mouth, mortified at how childish they sound. 

Cas looks at him, eyebrows raised high. "What?"

"I mean, do you, like anyone," Dean says awkwardly, which sounds even worse. 

"Why do you ask?"

Dean shrugs, trying to downplay his interest. "I guess, you were really good about me and Cassie, and I just wondered if I'd ever have to return the favor."

Cas looks at him for a long moment, and shrugs. "I'm not seeing anyone now," he says. 

"Okay," Dean says quickly. He'd like to drop the subject, but he also wants to know, so he presses on. "You'd tell me, right?"

"Of course," Cas says. It makes Dean die a little inside, because that pretty much means Cas is completely uninterested in him or he'd have said something. But it's better than him dating, at least.

"So, uh, who would you be interested in?" Dean asks. "Girls, or... or... guys?"

Cas blinks rapidly and looks away. It's the first time Dean's ever seen him remotely rattled. "It doesn't matter," Cas says quietly, staring into his beer.

"I know, I know," Dean says hastily. "I was just curious."

"No, I mean it doesn't matter what gender a person is," Cas says, still staring into his beer. "I don't decide who I like by what they look like, but what kind of person they are." He meets Dean's eyes briefly. "I know it's hard to understand."

Dean is on the verge of telling Cas that he does understand, understands a little too well, but then the doorbell rings, shattering the tense atmosphere. When Cas comes back with the pizza and napkins, the moment is gone. For the rest of the night, Dean sneaks glances at Cas and wonders what would have happened if he'd been a little faster. 

He's too much of a coward to bring it up again, memories of the awkwardness keeping his mouth shut whenever he thinks about saying something. Instead, he imagines Cas coming up to kim one day and kissing him, and jerks off almost every night to images of him. He downloads gay porn onto his laptop, and wasn't smart enough and downloads a virus along with it. The laptop was shitty anyway, six years old and second-hand to begin with, so he buys a new one and downloads some more. He learns exactly how sex between two guys works, and he's not disgusted by it unless he imagines someone other than Cas. He still doesn't say anything though, because for the first time in his life he's happy. He's happy working in an auto shop, he's happy in his own apartment, and he's happy being just Cas's friend. 

He may have been a bit too happy with his apartment, he thinks to himself, when the water in his building shuts off because of a burst main. Cas's house still has water though, so Dean moves back in with him for a while. Cas welcomes him in easily, but something is different than the last time. Cas doesn't talk to him as much, and Dean doesn't know what he did wrong. It hurts. It hurts that Cas's smiles seem forced when Dean shouts at the TV. Dean wonders maybe if Cas knows, if he's figured out what Dean does in his shower and is disgusted by it. 

In the morning four days after Dean showed up with a weeks worth of clothes, Dean wakes up to the sound of the shower running and groans. 

He needs to pee.

Before, he would have knocked obnoxiously on the door and shouted at Cas over the sound of the water, but he doesn't want to cause anymore weirdness than what's already going on, so he just waits. He waits for fifteen minutes, but the shower doesn't shut off and since he was listening to the sound of running water Dean just needs to pee more. He waits another five minutes and then scuttles off the master bedroom/studio. He knows Cas wouldn't like it, that it's his place of zen or whatever for when he's sketching, but if he's quick Cas won't have to know he was ever in there. 

Dean doesn't look around as he rushes into the bathroom; he's so intent on getting the urine out of his system. When he comes out, sighing in relief, he stops dead. Because his own face is staring at him. 

He's rendered on a canvas that's at least five feet wide and four feet tall. It's just his face and his upper body, in the driver's seat of the Impala that fades around him. He's smiling. It's not totally realistic, not like the sketches Cas does on his couch. It's all strong lines of color that are almost sloppy, but it's definitely him. Dean leans around the canvas and his eyes bug out of his head, because there's a painting of a sunset behind it but next to that is a sketch of him eating a burger. It's on a piece of paper, a black and white done with a pencil. Like before, the background fades and Dean is in the center in perfect focus. 

Dean does a thorough search of the room. He's not in everything - about half - but it's still freaking him out. He's sitting on the couch, yelling soundlessly. He's leaning against the Impala, face turned up toward the sun. He's bent over the innards of a car, grease on his shirt. Dean is so engrossed that he doesn't hear the shower turn off, doesn't hear Cas call through the house for him, and is gaping at a sketch of his sleeping face when Cas comes in and jumps. 

"Dean," Cas gasps. 

"What the fuck is this?" Dean asks slowly. 

Cas gapes at him, looks around the room at all the images of Dean like he hasn't seen them before. Like he hasn't spent hours translating Dean into art. "I-" Cas begins, and cuts himself off. His expression draws in and he turns to Dean and growls, "What are you doing in here? I told you to stay out."

"Stay out?" Dean points at the largest one, the one he'd first seen. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Cas flinches, but he steels his expression and hisses, "Get out."

Dean folds his arms and says, "No."

Cas looks like he's about to yell or shout, but then he closes his eyes and covers them with his hand. "I'm sorry."

"You should be," Dean growls, angry because Cas  _lied_. He told Dean he'd say if he was interested in anyone.

"It doesn't have to change anything," Cas says. "I know you don't - I wasn't going to say anything. We can forget about this."

Dean's brain grinds to a halt. He'd been so angry about Cas keeping this a secret that he forgot to think about what _Cas_ knows. Dean's been keeping secrets too. "Cas," he says calmly. His voice sounds like it's coming from far away, like it's not his. "I'm not angry that you painted all these pictures. I'm angry because you didn't fucking tell me you wanted to paint them."

"What?" Cas asks, voice strangled. He still has one hand over his eyes. Dean steps closer and pries it away from his face. Cas's eyes are wide and confused. Dean's opens his mouth to say it, but Cas is so close that Dean opts to show instead of tell. 

Cas looks freshly shaven, but Dean can still feel little pricks of stubble under his fingers when he runs them over Cas's jaw. Cas's eyes go even wider in surprise when Dean leans forward, and then Dean closes his eyes. Cas's lips are soft, softer than Dean expected but chapped and dry. He shifts closer and opens his mouth to run his tongue along the seam of Cas's lips. Cas makes a little noise of surprise and opens his mouth for a glorious second before jerking away. 

Dean whines and tries to pull him back, but Cas's holds him at arms length and says, "Dean. You're straight."

Dean opens his eyes and sees that Cas is looking at him nervously. "I thought I was," Dean agrees. "But you make me want everything."

Cas stares at him. And then he hauls Dean forward and smashes their mouths together. It actually hurts, teeth clacking together, and Cas's nose digs into Dean's cheekbone. When Dean imagined this, they'd always fit together easily, but it's perfect because it's real and Dean laughs. Cas seems to take that personally, because he grabs Dean by the back of the head and shoves his tongue into his mouth so far that Dean's brain goes offline. The next few minutes are driven purely by instinct. Cas fucks him with his tongue and Dean grabs his ass and does his best to grind Cas to death through their jeans. 

It ends when Dean gets over-excited and slams Cas into the wall. It works in that Cas throws his head back and moans, looking and sounding better than every wet dream Dean's had for the past few months. It's less successful because it causes one of the paintings Cas has on the wall to fall off, and Cas pushes him away and pauses their dry-humping to put it back carefully on the wall. Dean snickers, and thinks about making a smart remark about Cas wanting a level, but it dies in his throat when Cas turns around. His eyes are dark with intent, and since they are usually so bright it makes him look feral. "Bed," Cas snarls, and if Dean weren't hard already that would do it. 

They make it into Cas's bedroom eventually, after Dean fell over in the hallway trying to take his pants off and walk at the same time. Cas had grabbed him around the waist and yanked him back onto his feet, in a show of strength that made Dean stumble again. 

Cas pushes him onto the bed and flips him over onto his back before yanking his boxers off and throwing them into a corner. Dean's breath stutters, because in his hurry to get naked he forgot that Cas was still wearing clothes. Dean is very rarely self-conscious, but he is now, totally exposed as Cas stands at the foot of the bed, breathing heavily and looking him over. And then he starts to take his clothes off. He picks up his feet and rips off his socks first, which Dean didn't know could be sexy. And then he starts unbuttoning his shirt, so fucking slowly, every button meticulously pushed through the fabric. Dean is so fascinated by the graceful movements of Cas's fingers that the skin revealed is almost an afterthought. An afterthought that snaps to the center of Dean's focus when Cas shrugs out of the sleeves of the shirt. The ripple of his chest muscles is beautiful, so beautiful that Dean loses the battle he didn't even know he'd been fighting and wraps his hand around his cock. 

Cas's hands, which had moved to his belt buckle, pause and he just stares at Dean's dick. Dean blushes, but he doesn't let Cas's scrutiny stop him. He strokes himself slowly, trying to make a show of it. When he thumbs at the head, he can't stop a groan from escaping. Cas's eyes snap up to his face and with one movement he pushes his pants and underwear down. After the slow tease with his shirt, the sudden movement makes Dean gasp, and when Cas stalks forward and kneels above him it suddenly strikes Dean that this is happening. This is real. 

Cas is naked with Dean. His dick is bobbing against his stomach, close enough to touch, and Dean does, curiously. It's hot to the touch, smooth and slightly thinner than Dean's, but not by much and not much shorter either. He makes his hands curl around it loosely into a fist, and when he tries a light stroke, Cas exhales softly and closes his eyes. Dean does it again, a bit firmer this time, and watches in fascination as a drop of pre-come wets his hand and spreads along Cas's cock as he strokes him again. 

"Oh," Cas groans. "Dean." His eyes remain closed, but he runs his hands down Dean's body until one of them finds his dick and closes around it. His movements are sure, it's obvious that he's done this before. Dean would be jealous, but he's mostly over-awed by how good Cas's hand feels on him. His hand is soft and uncalloused, he works at a computer all day instead of with tools. 

Dean doesn't realize that his own hand has stopped moving until the bed starts creaking and he opens his eyes to find Cas rocking into his hand, staring at him like Dean is good at sex instead of lying there uselessly. "Dean," Cas gasps. "Can I fuck you? Please? I want to."

Dean hears the word "fuck" in Cas's voice and nods without thinking about it. Cas bites his lip and pulls away to rummage in the bedside table long enough for Dean to think about what he just agreed to and get nervous. 

Cas drops a condom on top of the covers and pops the top off a bottle of lube. Dean flinches and Cas notices. "We don't have to," Cas says. Dean stares at his dick and thinks about shits that he's taken and even though it's fucking disgusting it makes him feel better. 

"I want to," Dean says, and he does even though he'd never imagined it that way before. "Just -"

"It's fine," Cas says. He moves to put the condom away but Dean stops him. He takes the condom away and pulls Cas down so he can kiss him. 

"I want to," Dean whispers.

Cas's fingers dig almost painfully into his shoulder, and he bites Dean's lip before pulling back and dribbling some lube onto his hand. Dean pulls his legs up and tries to relax. Cas kneels between them and rubs circles into his hip with his left hand while his right disappears. Dean can feel his fingers tracing down, down, until one presses and slides into him. 

"Cas! Cas," Dean says, because he has to say something. Cas is  _inside_ him. It would be too much, except for the fact that Cas is almost maddeningly gentle. He's just twisting his finger and stroking with little circles. Cas kisses the inside of his knee and starts pressing against him with more firmness. He pushes Dean's knee up, and it causes his ass to come off the bed. Dean sputters but it's cut off when Cas pulls out and pushes back in with two fingers. It's a tighter fit, Dean can tell, but it doesn't hurt. And then Cas spreads his fingers apart and Dean loses all sense of reality. All his senses are focused on Cas's fingers and the way he's stretching him open, making him loose enough to take Cas's dick. It seems impossible, but maybe that's the point.

"Cas, want you, Cas, please," Dean gasps. He can't tell if Cas answers him, because he starts rocking his hand in and out and it feels so fucking good, he can't imagine how good it will feel when it's Cas's cock fucking him instead. And then Cas finds his prostate and Dean practically screams. He knew about the prostate, knew that the guys in porn always writhed and sobbed when it was touched, but he hadn't understood. 

For the next few minutes, Dean is only dimly aware of what's actually happening. He mumbles broken pleas and nonsense at Cas while Cas mouths at the inside of Dean's knee and groans in response. At some point he adds a third finger, and maybe a fourth, and Dean only starts thinking again when Cas pulls his fingers out and fumbles with the condom. Cas tugs at him with a slippery hand, and Dean goes with it, turning over and getting onto his hands and knees. Cas kneels up behind him, and one of his hands grips his hip and then he's there, thick and hot and pushing his way inside. 

Dean takes deep, gasping breaths, feeling like he can't get enough air into his lungs to deal with Cas filling him up. Cas smooths a hand down his back. "Beautiful," he whispers. Dean snorts, because he's feeling pretty far from beautiful. He feels hot and flushed all over, sweat standing out on his skin. "You are," Cas says, leaning forward and blanketing Dean with his body. He bites at the skin of his neck, and then he starts to move. "Wanted this for so long," Cas adds. Dean can't answer, because he's too busy making sounds he didn't know he was capable of. They're the type of things he's heard a few times from the girls he's been with, when he punches the air out of them and they make high-pitched, debauched noises. The idea that Cas is doing that to him makes him shake all over. 

Cas takes him in hand and strokes him in time with his thrusts, which makes Dean practically immobile, unable to decide which way to rock into more, but when Cas fucks in harder and tags his prostate in the process Dean flails and ends up face down in the mattress. He manages to reach one of his hands behind to grip at the back of Cas's thigh, but that's all he can do as Cas drives into him and makes the headboard slam into the wall. He slides his hand up and pulls at Cas's ass in a desperate attempt to get him to hit his prostate again, and when he does, a few times in quick succession, Dean groans and comes into his hand. Cas keeps fucking him, and every time he brushes against Dean's prostate Dean shakes like he's coming all over again, until Cas grinds deep and comes himself. "Dean," he gasps, sounding shocked. 

For a second they stay as they are, until Cas pulls out of him which is weirdly disgusting. Dean rolls onto his side and tries to remember how to move his limbs. Cas curls up, facing Dean, and they look at each other. "Did that really just happen?" Cas asks. His voice is still ragged, and Dean grins internally even though his facial muscles don't feel like cooperating. 

"Signs point to yes," Dean answers. Cas is silent. His eyes flick over Dean, as if he's trying to memorize him. It makes Dean remember. "How long have you been painting me?" He asks. 

Cas sighs, but he doesn't look away, which is a good sign. "A long time," he says. 

Dean lets that thought settle, lets it marinate. Cas closes his eyes and his breath evens out. "Cas?" Dean asks. 

Cas hums in response. He's not asleep, then.

"I meant it," Dean says. Cas opens his eyes. Dean swallows and makes himself finish. "When I said you make me want everything."

Cas smiles. "Me too," he says. 

"I should send neechee a thank you letter," Dean mumbles later, as he's about to fall asleep. Cas laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how to end things. I also don't know if I know how to write porn. If you bore with me all the way through thank you so much!


End file.
